


A World Torn Asunder

by EydrisIvo



Series: A World Torn Asunder: A Series of Shorts [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EydrisIvo/pseuds/EydrisIvo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is torn asunder. Fade rifts have opened everywhere, leaving the world in chaos, until a single survivor of the explosion at the conclave has the power to close them. Commander Cullen knows she is a mage, but he can’t help but be intrigued by her. A mage with that kind of power is dangerous, but could she be their saviour?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Torn Asunder

It was late. The eerie light of the moon flooded confidently through the window, mingling with the errant flakes of snow that risked venturing inside. A cold breeze filtered among the papers scattered across a desk, lifting the corners up of some, while turning others over completely. A single candle flickered on one end of the desk, casting moving shadows against the rough stone walls as its flames danced in the breeze. As if in rebellion to the ordered chaos, a gust of wind tossed a sheet of paper high in the air. It paused for a moment before fluttering downwards gently.

A gloved hand reached out to snap the roguish paper from its lazy venture, quick to put it back in its place among the disorder. The tall form of a man leaned over the desk, pushing both palms against its surface. Cullen’s eyes were closed, and the tumultuous landscape of his thoughts momentarily took over his mind, pushing him into an extended moment of silence. His mouth was set in a hard line. A scar from previous conflict adorned his upper lip, framed by stubble that moved from there to his strong jaw. His broad shoulders were tight with tension, the muscles visible from beneath the linen fabric of his tunic.

 _Sent by the Maker?_ His thoughts flew wildly until his head throbbed. How was it even possible?

The elf woman had appeared shortly after the destruction at the conclave. The mark on her hand had been able to close the rifts that had opened after the explosion. It was a miracle, but the woman was also a mage. He didn’t know what was worse, the rifts, or a mage that had the power to open and close them at will. Was she telling the truth regarding her memories, or was she the source of the breach that plagued the sky?

Even so, Cassandra seemed to have faith that the elf could help. The people were calling her the Herald of Andraste, believing her power to close the rifts was a gift from the Maker. To give a mage such power and influence could certainly be dangerous. It was unsettling. Yet, there was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. She intrigued him, even in the briefest of moments that they had met before Cassandra took her deep within the ruins. When he closed his eyes, he could see the fire in her green gaze.

Cullen took off his gloves, resting them on top the armour that lay neatly in a chair beside him, and approached the window. He ran a hand through his blonde waves before setting an arm against the stone window frame, the cold breeze kissing his cheek as he gazed down towards Haven. A fresh blanket of snow had dusted the rooftops, sparkling in the moonlight like crushed glass.

The apprehension that churned in his stomach was not to be outmatched by the turmoil in his brown eyes. Tomorrow would bring answers, and even more questions.

***

“She’s a mage, Seeker!” Cullen exclaimed, shaking his head as he paced alongside a large table covered with a map and various papers. The feathers that decorated his pauldrons swayed with his movement, and he halted mid stride to stare across the table at a woman, his eyes filled with suspicion. “How do you know she wasn’t the cause of all of this?”

“Commander,” Cassandra’s accented voice echoed softly through the room, “What other choice do we have at this point? She honestly doesn’t seem to remember what happened, and she can close the rifts. Whether we like it or not, she’s our only option.” The seeker placed a gloved hand on top of a book resting on the large table, exhaling deeply. Her jet black hair was slightly disheveled, and her face betrayed the signs of exhaustion. “Divine Justina is dead. The sky is torn asunder. The Templars and mages have rebelled, and the word is falling apart. We need something, anything.”

“Do you trust her?” He huffed, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know,” Cassandra replied, meeting his gaze, “but, I believe that she is telling the truth about her memories. I know what happened in Fereldan and Kirkwall leaves little trust to be had in mages, but what if this is a sign from the Maker? What if she was sent to repair the damage done?”

“What happened at the circles in Ferelden and Kirkwall is exactly why we should be very concerned about an apostate falling through a fade rift immediately after the explosion that took Divine Justinia’s life. I came from Kirkwall to help restore order, not cause it to crumble further.” Cullen shook his head, his brows furrowing deeply. The ghosts of painful memories flashed before his eyes, bringing a wave of dread up into his throat.

“We are taking precautions,” the Seeker replied.

“Then, guards are posted?”

He recalled the startling green gaze of the elf woman in his mind, and shut his eyes to try and banish it from his thoughts.

“The people are calling her the Herald of Andraste, Commander.” Cassandra released her hold on the book. “The Divine called out to her. They have hope. Showing our suspicion so openly would only hurt the Inquisition before it is even officially instated. She had the chance to attack me, and she chose not to. The mage has only been compliant and seems to show true remorse over what has happened.” Cassandra paused for a moment, adjusting one of her gloves. “You only spoke to her briefly, Commander. Go talk to her and form your own opinion.” The Seeker moved towards the door, swinging it open with little effort. “I must find Leliana. Chancellor Roderick is causing problems again.”

Cullen watched the door shut behind her. He inhaled deeply, looking once again to the large map that was spread on the surface of the table.

***

“Miss, Lavellan?” A female voice accompanied by a firm knock caused Ellana to rouse from her fitful slumber. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in her surroundings. The room was unfamiliar, causing her to sit up quickly and grip the sides of the cot. Her green gaze widened as the recent events all began to tumble back, leaving her with a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She couldn’t remember much from before her capture, and Cassandra’s suspicious eyes remained strong in her memory. She was sent by her clan as a spy to gather information on the meetings between the Templars and mages. Although the Dalish preferred to keep the events that happened outside the clan at arm’s length, they believed that any information gathered from the Conclave could be valuable.

Ellana remembered the explosion, and the sensation of falling a great distance. The searing pain of the mark on her palm had lessened substantially, but it remained there, a dull ache. After that, all she could recall was kneeling on the dungeon floor between Cassandra and a woman called Leliana, her knees pressed into the stone until they throbbed. The accusations had flown. Thousands of people were dead, and Ellana was the only survivor. No wonder they had thought her guilty.

She had only wanted to help, and Cassandra had released her from her bonds to bring her to the rifts that had appeared nearby. They had rendezvoused with an elven apostate named Solas and a dwarf from Kirkwall named Varric, both holding off an onslaught of demons released from one of the rifts. Once the creatures were defeated, Solas had held her hand up to the tear, and it closed as the magic coursed through her like an unrelenting torrent.

They had ventured forth to the place where it had all happened, where a larger rift was still open. They had heard the voices in the distance, as if the past was being presented to them. Even her own voice echoed in her ears as they approached the rift. The Divine had called out to her. But, after that, there was only silence.

The shock of the events had left much of it a blur. She was able to close the rifts, that much was clear. Yet, the breach had remained in the sky, leaving more questions than answers.

“Hello?” the voice repeated.

“Yes?” Ellana called out, sliding her legs over the side of her bed, shaking the fog from her thoughts. She ran lithe fingers through her auburn hair, pulling it away from her face. Her hands slid over the faint markings underneath her eyes, her vallaslin—the markings of her people.

“The Commander would like to see you,” the voice continued. “He awaits you where the troops are training.”

“I’ll be there presently,” Ellana responded, and she listened to the footsteps fade. She smoothed out the simple green robes that she had found in the closet and stood reluctantly.

The elf swallowed down a lump in her throat. She knew of Commander Cullen, and was very aware of his past as a Templar. She had spoken with him briefly, and although his tone was diplomatic, she easily read the distrust in his eyes. Being an apostate in such a situation was unnerving, but the fact that Solas was a willing participant in all this had been a comfort to her. He was, after all, in a similar situation to her.

Ellana left the hut, shutting the door softly behind her. To her surprise, she was met with a throng of people standing outside her door. They parted easily for her, allowing her to pass unrestricted. The whispers followed her every step. “She’s the Herald of Andraste,” the voices said, “sent to us by the Maker. She will save us!” They trailed behind her, echoing softly in her ears as she made her way to the front gates. Some looked on in contemplation while others openly cheered at her.

Nonsense, Ellana thought. It had to be nonsense. She certainly didn’t believe in the Maker, at least not the way these people did. She had no idea why the mark was on her hand, but it certainly wasn’t the Maker, and she certainly was not the Herald of Andraste.

The air was cold against her skin, causing her cheeks and nose to turn red beneath its chill. It had been a long time since Ellana had been in cold such as this. She turned her face towards the sun, which was high in the sky. It shone brightly against the snow, causing Ellana’s eyes to squint at the intensity. Haven was a bustle with activity, and those not focused on her were going about their own business, either crafting or selling their wares. Although it was a small community, there was spirit here. Despite the angry breach in the sky, the people seemed hopeful.

“You give them hope,” the voice of a man interrupted her thoughts as a tall form stepped in next to her. She stopped, turning to face him. His brown eyes were watching her intently, and a curiosity brewed beneath the suspicion that was plain to see. A feeling surged uncomfortably in her stomach. She was unsure if it was caused by intimidation or something else.

“Commander Cullen,” she nodded briskly, taking a few steps forward to move away from the audience that had gathered near them. He stood quite a bit taller than her, and his years of training were not only evident in his physique, but in his demeanour.

Cullen fell into step beside her, folding his hands behind him. She listened to the sounds of his armour as they walked, the silence tense between them.

“So, do you believe it?” he asked, his gaze looking forward.

“Believe what?”

“That you were sent by the Maker.”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I have no idea why this happened. My people don’t believe in the Maker as you do. The Dalish have their own gods.” Ellana stopped as they reached the edge of an overhang, her eyes moving over the frozen landscape. She was afraid to look at him. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened at the Conclave. I was only here looking for information.”

Cullen’s face remained serious, but he looked over at her briefly. “You can understand why we would be suspicious. An apostate conveniently falling through a tear in the veil with the power to manipulate fade rifts is not something we can simply overlook.”

“I understand that,” Ellana nodded, “but like I told Cassandra, I want to do what I can to make this right.”

“Which could be a lie.”

“I helped close the rifts, didn’t I?”

Cullen fell silent in contemplation, his features unreadable. “That much is true, yes,” he finally broke the silence, crossing his arms against his torso, “which is why I’m willing to support Cassandra on this. I trust her. You did close the rifts, and we need you.” The wind blew against his body, causing the feathers of his pauldrons to rise up and brush against his strong jaw-line. "However," he began again after a long pause, "You will be watched. I am concerned that a mage with such power is more susceptible to possession than usual. Your link with the rifts gives you unlimited access to demons, at any time."

“I did not choose this, but I will do what I can to help,” Ellana exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding onto. She brushed windswept strands of hair from her eyes. “I have no desire to consort with demons, Commander.”

“Very well then,” he gave her a slight nod, his gaze lingering on her features. “If there is anything else you need, come to either Cassandra or myself.”

As he turned to leave, Ellana wrapped her arms around her body against the wind that had begun to send a chill through the fabric of her clothing. She watched him go, conflicted on whether or not she felt relieved that the abrupt conversation was over.


End file.
